


Shippy Leverage Commentfics

by LMX



Series: Comment Fic [11]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Comment Fic, Deathfic, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, M/M, Multi, One Shot Collection, POV First Person, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMX/pseuds/LMX
Summary: A collection of shippy Leverage oneshots, backed up from LJ





	1. After This Con (Alec/Eliot)

"After this con, we're going home, man. We're going south and we're gonna stay down there where it's warmer and there's more space and less freaking tourists and we don't have to worry about the mobs. There's horses there, right? Like, ranches and stuff, you'll like that more. There'll be more to do that isn't hittin' folk and gettin' yerself beat all to shit and… I can see you doin' that. Getting all up in the cows faces an' makin' 'em… I dunno, whatever the fuck ranchers do. Havin' sex in tents on mountainsides." Alec stopped to draw breath, because really it was starting to be a problem.

Eliot blinked at him slowly, smiling that wicked smile that was the reason Alec had told him he loved him. "Sounds good." he muttered, blood in his mouth making Alec balk.

"Shut up, man. Yer mockin' me. I'm holding your chest together and you still gotta be mocking me like that? I like sex in tents. It's fucking cozy." Alec's breath hitched and he blamed the shiver on the freezing winds that were whipping relentlessly around the rooftop.

"Stop crying… y' baby." Eliot said, and Alec convinced himself that the hitch in his breath was the cold making Eliot shiver too.

"After this con, you gotta help me tell Nate, man. He's gonna throw one if I pull out. I mean, this whole thing wouldn't even work without me. I run this crew. I mean… Nate runs it, but I… Y'know… It don't run without me. Or you. Especially with you." Alec looked down. "Eliot, open your eyes." he insisted. "Eliot?"


	2. Rule No. 1 (Alec/Eliot)

In a long childhood of disappointments, trials and hurt, Alec Hardison had sworn that he'd never let himself be in a position to be physically hurt again. He trained his body to avoid standing out in a crowd, he'd replaced his glasses with contacts as soon as they came available, and he'd learned the skill of verbally distracting anyone until they were so turned around they didn't even remember that they had been planning on doing some violence against him. He'd perfected this character of his who was invincible in every way, and that was why he'd pretty much shied away from all of Eliot's lessons on self-defence. Because... well, a guy who knew how to defend himself was gonna get himself into scrapes where he *had* to defend himself... and that was already breaking the number one rule.

Problem was... every so often the team came across the kind of goon who didn't wait for him to open his mouth, and who wanted to beat him up just because it was their job and they were really freaking good at following orders. And then everything went to shit, just like today.

So after a rather cunning escape, if he did say so himself - he felt fairly justified in getting his grief out all over Eliot, noisily and without really taking more than the occasional breath. He hurt, he was all bruised up, he wasn't going to be able to sleep for weeks with his hips all scraped up from the asphalt, and his head was pounding. He was going to let Eliot know about it.

"And while I was getting beat all to shit, what were you doing, huh? You were taking another dip in a river with my tech in your ear. Do you know how many of those I go through for you, huh?" he wrapped up in a heavy-handed crescendo, finishing his pace across their apartment by spinning and pointing an accusatory finger at Eliot.

There was a smirk playing at the edges of Eliot's lips, his hair curling erratically after his impromptu swim and a bruise and associated scrape blooming on his cheek. "Are you done?" he asked, when Alec stumbled over those visual cues and got distracted from his rant.

"No. No I am not done..." Hardison declared, and promptly realised he kind of was, floundering for something else to say as he eased himself down into a chair very very carefully. "Well... Goddamn you for hiding how fucking hard this is."

"Are you done?" Eliot asked again, still smirking like a fool.

He forced himself to breathe out slowly, releasing everything that hadn't come out in that first deluge of words and finding that the pain eased off a little when he relaxed. "Yeah, I kinda am," Alec admitted wryly.

He just wasn't used to this. He'd avoided it so well over the last handful of years, and he'd been so used to Eliot's habit of hiding until he could put on a war face and carry on like usual. He was used to hiding himself behind three different routing accounts and a handful of global borders.

"Alright then," Eliot pushed himself up from his seat, "We're gonna get you iced up while I check you over and then I'm gonna run you a bath."

"A bath!?" Alec had forgotten they even had one of those. He hadn't taken one since he'd been able to stand up for more than ten minutes at a time. Not counting that jacuzzi that one time... or the hot tub with those Star Wars girls...

"Believe me, tomorrow you're going to appreciate the bath." Eliot was already on his way back with a handful of towels and some ice packs. He looked set to go into war, determined look on his face.

"But it's just..." Alec whined as Eliot pressed a pack against his hip, bringing Alec's own hand down to hold it in place. He started to move and Eliot kept his hand there.

"Hold it still," he demanded in his 'giving orders' voice. Normally, Alec loved that voice. He really did. But right now...

"Yessir," Alec replied, shutting his eyes against the sharp pain. The ice started to do its work, permeating into his bones and making him forget about the scrapes on his skin. He relaxed slowly, and then flinched again as Eliot put another pack down on the side of his ribs.

Eliot did chuckle at that, sadistic bastard. Alec was fairly put out that it took him getting all beat to hell to get a laugh out of his boyfriend. Slowly, slowly, Alec started to feel more like himself. Just an awkward, iced down version of himself. He was turning into a sleepy, sluggish version of himself the more the pain eased, adrenaline dropping him back down to ground level. Eliot came back, even though he hadn't noticed him leaving, and eased Alec out of the chair. They left the ice behind in damp puddles on the sofa and then there was a bath. And it was bliss.

Not that he was planning on getting all beat up every day, or anything. But this could be worse.


	3. Experience Is The Name (Alex/Eliot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Experience is the Name We Give Our Mistakes (Oscar Wilde)

There are things you get used to, living alone and working alone. Status quo which just isn't amenable to group living. And they'd all been alone for far too long before they were thrown together so violently.

It only took one case away from HQ, long enough into their group relationship that they all felt comfortable with each other, to realise that sharing a suite between four criminally inclined individuals and an alcoholic was not always safe.

"I can't wake him up."

Sophie woke to Parker's plea and, immediately thinking of Nate choking to death on too much alcohol the night before, nearly fell from the bed in her haste to reach the boy's room on the other side of the suite. She stopped short on reaching the adjoining lounge, finding Nate knelt beside Parker, both looking down on a silent, shivering Eliot who was curled up on the sofa. Nate looked up at Sophie, bleary eyed as she stepped closer and reached out to lay her hand on Eliot's forehead.

"No!" Parker warned, just a moment to late.

The reaction was instantaneous. Nate went flying backwards as Eliot's foot found his ribs, Sophie stumbled to the ground as her arm was wrenched up behind her and released just as suddenly, and Eliot leapt off the sofa and slammed Parker into the floor by her neck and pinned her there.

"Eliot!" Sophie shouted, shoving ineffectually at his shoulder.

"Eliot?" With Nate still wheezing on the ground, Hardison's voice was a welcome addition, but Eliot didn't even look up. "God damnit," Hardison muttered, and walked away.

Sophie gaped after him for a second, before gathering herself and using her whole bodyweight to try and shift Eliot off Parker, whose thrashing struggles were weakening. There was a click from the other room and the sudden smell of instant coffee.

"Alec, help!" Sophie demanded, scrabbling ineffectually at Eliot's hands and arms.

"Eliot," Alec said again, walking back in with a mug. "Coffee." There wasn't any specific tone to his voice, nothing angry or frustrated, but Sophie still got the feeling this meeting had happened before.

Eliot blinked once down at Parker and then looked up at the offered mug. "Thanks," he said amiably, and got up to take the mug from Alec like nothing had happened,leaving Parker gasping for air hoarsely.

Eliot drank the cup of coffee and Alec drank a cup of something toxic looking and orange, and Parker struggled to catch her breath on the floor. Sophie just gaped. When the mug was empty, Eliot washed it up, put it on the sideboard and left the suite. As one, everyone looked at Alec.

"Eliot doesn't sleep much," was all he offered. "I'm going back to bed."

"How did you know to offer him coffee?" Nate asked as he turned to go, both hands wrapped tightly around his ribs.

"Eliot doesn't sleep much," he repeated it, as if they'd missed it the first time around. "Crappy instant American coffee is... it's a home safe smell." he added as an afterthought. He scratched at his hip and then pointed back into the room. "'M goin' t' bed." he muttered.

Nate nodded and Sophie wished she wasn't intelligent enough to put that jigsaw together.

-

For Parker, in contrast, the nightmares came with rigid stillness and sobs that tore at Sophie's heart. More wary this time, and aware that Parker could probably be just as dangerous as Eliot if she wanted to be, Sophie stayed at arm's reach as she called out her name.

Parker's eyes shot open immediately, meeting Sophie's worried gaze and holding it until Sophie looked away, uncomfortable.

"What do you know. The moon does work," Parker muttered to herself, rolling out of bed and stepping over to sit on the side of Sophie's bed.

"You alright?" Sophie asked, still not sure whether touch would be appreciated. Parker looked up at her, eyes wide and terrified and shook her head once, fingers fluttering to her throat.

"You know Eliot didn't mean to hurt you, don't you sweetie?" Sophie asked, reaching out to stroke a hand through Parker's hair. She coughed pathetically and ducked under Sophie's blanket.

"Alright, so I'm mama bear tonight am I?" Sophie smiled, running a soft hand over the lump Parker made in the bed sheets.

"Hush." Parker hissed, and promptly fell back asleep.

-

That morning, Sophie walked in on an argument.

"If you just explained to everyone, things like last night wouldn't happen." Alec was arguing, voice not raised, but tone expressing his frustrations.

"How was I supposed to know Parker would be walking around so late?" Eliot hissed back, obviously fighting to keep his voice low. Sophie crept up to the doorframe, hoping to listen without being seen.

"What are you explaining, Eliot?" Nate asked, and Sophie sighed. The man just didn't understand the whole eavesdropping concept. Sophie stepped into the joining room in time to see Eliot give Alec a truly dirty look before shooting Nate a covering grin.

"Nothin'. Sleep well?" he asked.

"I must have slept strangely. I have sore ribs," Nate said, looking at Eliot speculatively, taking in the grimace. "Something to say?" he pressed.

"I'm not used to sleeping in places with other people," Eliot replied.

"Good morning!" Parker shouted, looking far too awake as she stepped out of the girl's room. Eliot's eyes went straight to the marks around her neck, blossoming after the night.

"Shit," he muttered. "Look, Parker. Hardison told me..." he said, looking like he wanted to go over to her but didn't trust himself.

"No wonder you're grouchy all the time if you wake up like that every morning," she grinned wildly.

Eliot's lips twisted into a brief smile. "I guess," he muttered, taking Parker's acceptance of his not-yet-spoken apology for what it was.

"It could have been avoided." Alec sing-songed.

"Shut up, Hardison." Eliot snapped back.

"No, Hardison, I'd really like to know how that could have been avoided." Nate interrupted.

"Keeping fucking drunks and their grabby hands away from me when I'm sleepin'," Eliot muttered under his breath.

"Eliot has a list of things that calm him down," Alec replied, ignoring Eliot.

"You have a *list* for that?" Sophie asked, bemused.

"You have things that calm you down?" Parker asked, more amused.

"Why did Hardison benefit this list and none of us?" Nate added his own question.

"Hardison doesn't wake me up when I'm asleep," Eliot pointed out, eyes narrowing. "And he doesn't have grabby hands, and he doesn't get drunk at night. He's the one I'm least likely to be beating on."

"It ain't a long list." Hardison added. "And we figured if we were gonna be sharing a bed..." Alec stalled on a sharp glare from Eliot. "I mean... a suite... y'know. Like we are. A room in a suite. With beds..."

"If the team were gonna be spending time together I needed someone to be able to stop me from hurting anyone," Eliot finished for him, rolling his eyes.

"Well then, lesson learned," Nate nodded to himself before turning to the others. "In future, Parker, you wake up Hardison first."


	4. *With* him (Alec/Eliot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot always ends up playing the broken guys when they grift

Eliot Spencer knew how to think on his feet, wasn't no one could say otherwise. And perhaps it hadn't been *so* smooth, declaring himself Nate's brother maybe a beat or two too late, but Sophie had been doing all the acting in their little troupe for months now, he was rusty.

It was a belated realisation that Alec couldn't use that same claim that had him grimacing, but Alec had that sparkle in his eye that said he had something up his sleeve, so Eliot had turned back to eye-fucking the secretary and waited for the hacker to weave his self-declared 'magic'. Alec had always over-acted in the grift, so the accent he pasted on didn't hit Eliot until WAY too late.

"I am *with* him." Alec enforced, moving in too close and *touching*.

Alec was hanging off his arm, and Eliot's mind went blank, full of nothing but fuzzy static, and all he could think of as Alec made their excuses and dragged him away from the desk was - "What if my mama hears about this?"

So there he was, suddenly grifting a gay man with a pathological need to flirt with women. In an addiction clinic. He was lucky they didn't admit him there and then. But then it'd only been a couple of months later, after the team had split up and got back together again, that he and Alec had actually started sleeping together, and it wasn't as if he'd toned down the flirting any, so...

Kid Jones had taken some serious work. He'd known enough fighters with the same story, listened to the way they spoke and watched the way they held themselves and tried to work out how anyone could let life overwhelm them like that.

Still, he understood at least how bad times could creep up on a person, that he knew all too well. He didn't ask Sophie for help getting into character, she was having enough trouble understanding the reality of this whole thing, he didn't need her messing with the grift. Not his side of it at least.

And if his voice was pitched like his dad's, and his shoulders rounded like his dad's and his eyes wide and vulnerable like his dad's, well... No one on the team had met the man, and hopefully they never would, and it sold the role better than he mighta thought.

Whatever, everyone had known it was a bad idea to let Alec grift on that job with the diamonds. The grifter dictates the whole tone of the con and Alec had gone straight in with his what-the-fuck accent and his outfit and his stupid freaking 'Iceman' persona, and the tone of the con was suddenly something out of a bad movie pretending to be a Guy Richie.

And then the asshole has the guts to start changing *his* role in the con. Sure, he didn't need to speak to threaten and intimidate, but a bit of notice might have been nice. He'd been working on his body guard pose and everything. A mute body guard might have a completely different mind-set. This shit was important, not that Alec would know about constructing a freaking grift.

When he managed to get hold of him later (after they'd rescued him from the damn Russians), Eliot had pinned him to a wall and demanded to know just what he thought he was doing.

"Watching you grift is better than watching Sophie." he had answered. "She enjoys it too much. You? You live it. It's art, man, angsty, twisted art. I was just trying t'... y'know shape it. You know me, I'm an artist."

Honestly... Eliot couldn't help but be just a little flattered. That didn't mean he was going to forgive him for the whole Iceman thing any time soon, though. Or let him forget that he needed rescuing. Again. Nope, that was gonna take a whole lot more than flattery.


	5. No Fear (Alec/Eliot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BDSM implications in this one

Eliot Spencer built his life, his career, on not looking afraid. By facing physical danger with a grin and whatever came to hand, his bare fists most of the time, he'd created a no-fear persona that could threaten and impose with the best of them.

Eliot Spencer was afraid of a lot of things. Commitment, threats against his family, loss. Mostly he was afraid to trust.

Because of that fear, he couldn't tell Nate what he was really capable of, if he'd just let him do his job and not keep asking him to run around playing thug.

He couldn't tell Parker about the two sisters he'd lost when he was young because he hadn't worked enough hours to keep their home heated over winter.

He couldn't tell Sophie that he forgave her, not really, not so that she believed him.

It had taken a lot of time, and a lot of persistence, to know that he could do this. Be safe here. Knelt at the feet of one man he could trust to know him completely and control him when he couldn't find the strength to control himself.

Alec knew that, to feel safe, Eliot needed a room with no windows, with thick walls, with one door and a lock on the inside. That to be controlled, Eliot had to give up his own control completely and walk into that room, leaving the world outside. Alec knew there could be no computers inside the room, no cameras or bugs. That he could not mention work, or any of Eliot's fears, or break the rules they had agreed upon.

Eliot knelt, and listened to the lock click behind him. He leant into Alec's hip as he came to stand at his side and felt his hand come down to rest on his head. Alec didn't have to ask if he was alright, Eliot was feeling no fear.


	6. Thou Art Enough (Nate/Maggie, Nate/Sophie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other men said they have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough. (G. Moore)

Nate Ford is not a man of words, poems and songs. You knew that when you met him. He would not wax lyrical even if he could. Your body is enough for him, your curves and lines so carefully concealed and so cunningly exposed, teasing as you flit about him lighter than the air, insubstantial. He chases you for months, begging for a glimpse only to find you gone, the newest name discarded.

He dreams of you (and he is ashamed) while sleeping in his wife's loving arms, and he dreams of knowing your name and calling you by it. He dreams of knowing you and seeing you and of telling you all of his desires.

"Your wife is an angel." That is what he was told, as Jim Sterling reclines in his chair, as drunk as he is, maybe more. Nate had only looked across at his wife, the pale beauty swaying to the quiet music with his tiny son in her arms. You might have been jealous in that moment, had you seen it, but then... you had never aspired to be an angel.

Nate does not think he deserves an angel. He believes himself too tainted for that now. One day he knows Maggie will realise that too, and cast him out, and then he knows when he searches for you he will finally find you, because you... you are no angel.

For him, perhaps you are all he deserves. For him perhaps you are enough.


	7. Sleeping Beauty (Eliot/Sophie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the season 2 finale, with Nate in prison.

It's still mostly dark up here, even though the sun's long up. Too many nights working the small hours, the habit of dark curtains in every apartment is well ingrained. Thick spun wool, the sunlight picks out all the marks in it. Makes it brilliant and bright even as it throws the room into shadow.

Hardison is downstairs, maybe Parker too, migrating towards your apartment because the cops're still waiting for us to walk back into Nate's. Like we'd be so stupid. So Hardison's downstairs and he's just talking and talking and talking. The English accent you've been teaching him - after laughing yourself red in the face when he recreated his 'Iceman' persona for you - is taking shape now. At least I think it is, I can hear your accent in it, if nothing else. Maybe he's talking for Parker's audience, but he could just be talking to himself, or his damn computer for all I know.

And you're just sleeping right through it, breathing on the back of my neck, inescapable (and goddamn, if I can't feel that through every inch of me), the occasional snuffling sigh that I'll mock you for later. And for all that I was just thinking I was maturing, awake for hours now without the need to move, to wake you or leave. I'm enjoying the warmth, the contact, for as long as it'll last. Because it's not going to last.

Nate wouldn't allow this slothfulness; won't, when he finds his way back to us. And he will, no doubt about it. With or without our help. Even with everything set against him. It'll be back to early meetings and endless do-gooding and... cold beds in the morning.

You'll break free of this and go back to him, and I'll... huh... I'll go back to the long line of women I've not slept with yet, who can't keep me in their beds any longer than...

Normal people sleep so long, and I get bored easily. Except with you, I guess. You tucked into my back, and Hardison safe downstairs chattering on to Parker (she's laughing at him now, uproariously), and Nate... well, Nate's old enough to keep himself out of trouble. Or get himself there one way or the other.

He better.

He's got to get home to you. You can't sleep forever. You're just waiting for him to come and... wake you up.


	8. Sleepover (Alec/Parker/Eliot)

When Parker had suggested they have a sleepover, both Alec and Eliot had glanced at each other and even while mentally high-fiving each other, had both worried that it was just a little too early in their infant relationship for that kind of step. There had been kissing and fondling so far, and a bit of action that had been a bit too amorous for the sofa in question and had let to Alec sulking after falling on his ass. But a sleepover suggested much more serious things. Like beds.

What they hadn't considered was that a sleepover with Parker consisted of a spot-lit bed in the middle of a warehouse, pink nail varnish and a variety of random magazines. In her pajamas, Parker sat cross legged on the bed and frowned at the two of them.

"This is boring," she declared. "Sophie said sleepovers were fun."

Shaking his head, Eliot shook his hands to dry his nails and leant in to kiss Parker. "How about we try this instead?" he asked.

"Oh thank God," Hardison sighed, throwing the specialist lawn mower magazine aside and joining them.


	9. Reverse Psychology (Nate/Eliot)

Nate's used to this little routine now. If he offers comfort too early, or tries too hard to help, Eliot struggles and shrugs him off and pushes him away. The trick is to be callous and uncaring, to get Eliot so worked up by his supposed abandonment that he all but demands the help he would otherwise deny he ever needed. It's reverse psychology of a most obvious kind, but Eliot seems not to have worked that out yet. Or else he's ignoring it so long as he gets what he wants in the end and he can keep up his image.

So Nate's been ignoring him for the last hour, and Eliot's been sulking in the corner while the others slowly picked themselves back up and headed home, Sophie shooting Nate an amused look as she went. Eliot sighed like an am-dram queen when he finally got up and made a move towards their bedroom.

"I guess you don't want help getting cleaned up?" Nate called after him, and then followed because Eliot wasn't expected to actually reply to that, it's just a formality.

There was a first aid kit open on the side when Nate got to the bedroom, and Eliot was stripping off layers and throwing them into the corner - one of these days Nate'll invest in a laundry basket. Eliot won't make eye contact (to continue the illusion that he hasn't asked for help), but he sat down on the corner of the bed as Nate poured a little antiseptic onto some cotton wool and manhandled Eliot so he could reach the broken skin across the base of his ribs.

It's not the way Nate ever imagined taking care of someone, and he knows he won't get even a grudging 'thank you' for this, but Eliot stays healthy and cared for and he gets to keep his pride. Some days, that's all that matters.


	10. Things That Go On In Hell (Alec/Parker/Eliot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell is for the kind of people who like the kind of things that go on in hell ~Blackadder
> 
> Warning for sexytimes and might not be suitable for those sensitive to religious moral conflicts (contains Bible quotes)

There's nothing about this that's acceptable to the moral values he grew up with. Tanned skin under one hand, shocking white under the other, he debated just how broken he was to fall into this with his eyes wide open.

_The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord and the Lord for the body._

He leans in, kisses on one side, scrapes of nails on the other. He's pulled down into them, touches light on his skin raising gooseflesh. Breathless as a hand reaches around to cup him. A glint of silver as a hand comes up to grip his jaw and pull him forwards into a kiss.

_If a man is found laying with a woman married to a husband, then both of them shall die._

They're moving towards a familiar shape with all their shifting, getting there slowly and unhurried. The smooth cheeks of an ass are his invitation, and he doesn't rush in preparing himself. Pale hands join his in exploration, in making a way for him to fit, easing it open with practised touch. They are all breathless now, close and ready.

_You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female, it is an abomination._

They merge together quickly after all the preparations, but hold that moment still as they wait for their third. Her thighs are soft beneath his hands as she encloses them within the two, settling into this unholy trinity, a sigh on her lips no blessing or prayer. They wait a beat. Then two. Thieves stealing time for themselves alone. Sharing only as far as their own tiny circle.

_A thief must make restitution, but if he has nothing, he must be sold to pay for his theft._

For a moment there is nothing but this. Hands and legs and more intimate parts all entwined, worshipping only each other, moving in time and breathing in time with each other. Slaves to each other's bodies. Each of them living only for each other. Then there is a moment of nothingness that they have not felt outside of this circle.

_No slave can serve two masters._

They come back to themselves, back to each other, with life buzzing through their veins and settled calm in their hearts. He knows he's going to hell for this. And he just can't bring himself to care.


	11. This New Reality (Nate/Eliot)

Nate staggered into his apartment last, and he could see the moment when the rest of the team realised that Eliot wasn't going to follow him through that door. They deflated as one, Parker bringing an icepack to her jaw and Hardison scrolling through camera angles as Sophie came over to check that he was alright.

Nate slumped into a chair, ignoring Sophie's fussing. When a whiskey turned up at his elbow he didn't even blink before slamming it down.

"He has to have been planning this for years, Nate." Sophie's voice was rough and uneven. Broken. "He's talked to me about this heist so many times it feels like it was my idea in the first place. Eliot *never* suggests heists... I should have known..."

"He's been teaching me the sequence of moves I'd need," Parker broke in suddenly. "To get away from that one guy. Exactly the sequence. He knew who it would be and he trained me to know what to do."

"And he made me teach him the hack he'd need for that door code," Alec added. "He took my equipment and he left the earbud where he knew only I'd find it, even when the police searched."

"So he didn't want us hurt or in trouble..." Sophie started. "He just wanted the prize for himself. Or for his client, who by extension now wants us dead."

Alec's expression hardened. "Either way, he's betrayed us, and he's been planning it for a while."

"He knew the men who turned up," Parker dropped the icepack on the table and stared at it. "And he didn't tense up like he was thinking of fighting. He just..."

Nate couldn't bring himself to move, or speak or even think. That last moment, when Eliot had turned to face him for a moment before ducking out of that door and setting off the alarm with his own team inside the building... There had been some kind of gleeful satisfaction in his expression.

The Eliot Spencer he had known... he had loved... well it was starting to look an awful lot like he never existed.

-

The new reality was cold and stark. They trusted teach other to the given limits of their careers. They trusted Parker to do everything they needed her to do for the con, but not to walk away from anything valuable or to leave their wallets in their pockets. They trusted Sophie to guide them and advise them and to be whoever they needed her to be, but they always assumed she had her own motives. Hardison could be trusted to guide them and keep them safe digitally, and to always have an escape plan, but would always go a step too far in the con.

Nate would always be there to run the con and get them out of a tough spot, and he'd make the hard decisions so that they would never have to bear that weight... and he knew they got more wary the more impassioned he became.

But Eliot... Eliot was the one who kept them safe. Eliot they just trusted, no exceptions. Granted, sometimes Nate didn't listen as close as he should have, but...

Eliot was the sharp voice of reason when things started to overwhelm him. When Parker was distracted he was the coaxing, guiding friend. When Sophie got caught up in a tangent Eliot was a measured reminder and when Hardison started spinning out of control, Eliot was the growling threat at his shoulder. And if there was ever any thought, or hint or suggestion that any of them was about to get hurt, he was there without hesitation, throwing himself in the path of danger.

If Eliot couldn't be depended upon. Steady, reassuring, reliable Eliot... Could any of them trust the other?

The shock was slowly wearing off, and Nate was suddenly **raging**. Sophie reached out to touch him every time he walked past her, but he wasn't going to let her get her hands on him. He didn't **want** to calm down. He could feel the anger boiling in his gut and all he really wanted to think about was revenge. But they had a client out there, and the target of all this hate... had been in his bed less than an day ago.

So he paced, and circled, and kept his schemes to himself.

-

It was perhaps most terrifying that Parker was the voice of reason in the end.

"Eliot protects us from danger," she pointed out, her hand fisted in Nate's collar holding him still. "He wouldn't have put us in danger if he didn't think we were going to be in more danger if he didn't put us in danger first." Parker paused, presumably to let that whole thing settle in. "So... Eliot's the one in big danger, we've got to find him. Make sure he's alright."

It was Sophie who stepped up first, which was a relief for Nate as he had worried Parker was expecting him to be able to process all that. "Parker, Eliot planned this whole thing. He's known this was going to happen for months, maybe even years..."

"So he's known he was in danger." Parker shrugged expressively. "It must have been more dangerous for him to tell us than to not." She didn't let go of Nate's collar - she had one hell of a grip - but she let him sit down.

"Parker... it sounds like you're reachin'," Hardison put forward, uncharacteristically tentatively.

"Eliot protects us from danger," she repeated, her tone getting sharp and exasperated. "It's who Eliot is... Anything else and he wouldn't be Eliot."

"Maybe he wasn't ever..." Nate started, putting voice for the first time to the thing that was souring his gut.

Alec interrupted him, "Oh... woah now, wait. It was like with Moreau." At the assorted confused stares, he shook his head. "Y'all didn't see him when he went to meet Moreau, he knew he was walking into... a fucking deathtrap... but he wasn't..." Alec pulled a face. "He didn't tense up, like he was expecting a fight. He was all... loose. I didn't even associate it 'til just now but... he was like that back there."

"Moreau's still in San Lorenzo," Sophie corrected, but she looked more hopeful than she had all day.

"Come on, guys," Alec snorted dismissively. "We all know Moreau ain't the only war lord boss in Eliot's closet."

"So... who?" Nate finally managed.

"Guess we won't find out until we get him back." Sophie gently coaxed Nate's collar free from Parker's grip and hustled her with Hardison back towards all the computer equipment. She came back a couple of minutes later with a tumbler of whiskey and sat close by. "Steel yourself, Nate," she said, squeezing his shoulder as she handed over the drink. "This one could get complicated. But we'll bring him home."


End file.
